


Now I am become Death

by oneiriad



Series: Death's Thief [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Crossover, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-06 05:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14049549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneiriad/pseuds/oneiriad
Summary: Better late than never...





	Now I am become Death

Mick knows he should be moving, knows he should be rolling, getting back on his feet, maybe headbutting Bleached Blondie right in the solar plexus. He knows all that – somewhere. A bit in the back of his mind. It's just – he's just a little bit woozy right now. Getting slammed down on the floor pretty much knocked the wind out of him and damnit, he's not half as young as he once was. He needs a moment, okay?

Except Bleached Blondie's standing over him with a knife like the high priest in some crappy Indiana Jones-rip off and he's pretty sure this is the last moment he's going to get.

End of the road.

The knife is plummeting towards him, except – well, it's funny, but it almost looks like there's something trying to stop it, making BB's hands move in fucking slow-motion, as if she's pushing through water or something.

He's hallucinating, obviously, but that's what it looks like, okay?!

Anyway, it's not like the knife is actually stopping.

The world becomes a crackling blur and he's upright again. He really wants to puke – stupid kid needs to learn to let a fellow brace himself – and sway and collapse, except Amaya needs help and so does the rest of his stupid crew.

Better to focus on that than on the far too familiar voice that he could have sworn he heard say ”Oh no, you don't!”

***

When Wally realizes he's made a terrible mistake, it's already too late. Jesse's raising some sort of futuristic gun at him, her voice going all deep and echoing and spooky, and, well – he figures, being a speedster, he can handle that, right?

If Barry was here, he could have totally outrun that shot.

Wally doesn't.

Wally gets hit straight in the chest, and the world slows almost to a standstill. It feels like all his limbs have turned to lead, like his heart is forgetting to beat and he's forgetting to breathe.

He's barely realizing that whatever the hell that gun was, it's stolen away his speed, when something slams into him, pushing him up and back towards the console. He can't even braze himself.

He's pretty sure that getting slammed down on the console like that is going to break his spine.

He can survive that, right? Barry survived getting his back broken, he got all better and everything! Wally can totally survive this, right?

It's funny – the console isn't nearly as hard to land on as he expected. It even feels like there's some sort of pillow cushioning the back of his neck.

His last thought before losing consciousness is about how grateful he is for the really weird places future tech has seen fit to put airbags.

”Baby speedsters. None of you ever do watch where you're going, do you, kid?”

***

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

What had she been thinking?!

”Sara's going to take us out, one by one!” Her own words. Hers. And then she'd wandered off all alone, to – to make it easier for her?!

Since clearly all she had accomplished was to end up pinned by weird zombie Sara, having her life choked out of her.

Zari knows that lack of oxygen to the brain can cause hallucinations. Admittedly, she expected something like that would take longer than two seconds, but nevertheless, she could swear that someone has taken hold of her hand.

It's like having your hand held by a hand-shaped snowball.

Clearly, fighting isn't the answer here. Air totem or not, she's got no chance against this Sara. But maybe – maybe Sara does.

And so Zari starts begging, because surely there must be just a little bit of the Sara they know inside, right? Team mom and Captain Lance Sara – she wouldn't let her stupid, reckless crew member just die without a fight, right? She's Sara, she never lets anything go without a fight!

Funny thing is – for a moment, it actually seems like she's getting through to her.

It's like the real Sara can actually hear her.

She lets go of the hallucinatory snow hand and reaches up, wanting to use both hands to get free from zombie Sara's grip – except suddenly it's as if whatever she was getting through to is gone, and zombie Sara is breaking her hand – and oh, that hurts, though maybe not as much as it should, as if the hallucination of the hand being a little numb from the cold actually helps.

Then Sara's fist collides with Zari's face and the lights go out.

***

John does not regret his plan of action.

He'd definitely have preferred if it had worked, that goes without saying. But he doesn't regret it.

Well, maybe he regrets it a little, but it's not like the Time Agents had left him with the impression that he had the time to stop by the old watermill and grab some of his heavy duty exorcism trinkets.

Mallus is clearly a higher level demon. Some sort of Prince or Duke at the very least, probably masquerading under a false name to make fighting him with magic harder. The sort of fiend that requires a little more than a splash of holy water stolen three sundays ago from the nearest Catholic church, a cross and the faith of a self-proclaimed master of the occult, no matter how many angels he's been bothered by.

Heh. If he survives this, maybe he should chase down Manny and pluck him a bit. See if an angel feather can be used to fight whatever sort of demon this bloody Mallus is.

If he survives this – though right now that's a pretty big if.

He can't breathe, can barely lift his hands. He's dangling a foot or two in the air, and it feels like an enormous claw is wrapped all around him, squeezing the life out of him – and choking him.

Let's not forget the choking.

John would really like a breath of air right now.

Something touches his lips, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say it feels like lips, like a tongue forcing its way into his mouth, and, well – even for him, this is getting a bit weird. It's not like he'd generally object to some invisible and intangible guy (he's assuming by the slight scratch against his face) giving him a French kiss, but there's a time and place for everything.

Except then Mr. Invisible Man is blowing into his mouth and somehow the air – cold and brisk, like taking a deep breath outside on a winter's day – is forcing its way down, down into his poor lungs.

Mind you, it's a bit of a mixed blessing, considering that he's still getting the life choked out of him and his new boyfriend Casper the Friendly Ghost doesn't seem like he's about to offer any help apart from the buddy breathing.

The Death Totem flares, blazingly white, and John finds himself peremptorily dropped. He staggers to his feet, rubbing his poor throat with the hand he's not using to support himself against the wall.

”Took them long enough,” a vaguely familiar voice grumbles.

”You said it, mate,” John agrees and goes to see if either of his Time Feds are still conscious.

***

The slow clap makes everybody turn abruptly (which leads to John yelping as Mick's brightly burning flame comes too close and singes his stubble).

There's a man leaning, lazy as a cat, against the wall of the Waverider. The Death Totem and its choker is dangling from the fingers of his gloved hand.

”Snart?”

”Leo?”

”Len?”

”Now, now – what's with the cold welcome home?” the man drawls, lips curling into a smirk. ”I know it's taken me a little longer than intended to make it back, but you'd think a guy getting himself blown up for the team wouldn't be welcomed back at gunpoint?”

Ava's hand doesn't waver as she keeps the gun pointed straight at the stranger's chest. There's a piece of dangling jewelry, bright silver against the midnight-blue of the man's sweater, which makes an excellent target to aim for.

”Leonard Snart died a hero!” Sara says, crossing her arms. ”You're just Mallus' last trick.”

The knife shivers where its buried in the wall, right where the man who can't possibly be Len Snart was just standing.

”Sara, stop!” and she pauses before throwing the next knife, glancing sideways at John.

”I don't think that's Mallus. When you were fighting me in the hallway, there was something else there – something that was trying to help. That was you, wasn't it, mate?”

The man's smirk widens just a bit, and yeah, John's pretty sure he's right.

”Len?” and Mick is coming forward, the dancing flames sliding off his hand like water and snuffing out as they hit the floor.

”Yeah, it's me. No hard feelings?”

Mick stops, blinks – then raises his right hand and curls it into a fist. Takes a step closer and pulls his fist back – then seems to change his mind and lowers it. Shoulders his way past Len, making the other man stagger just a bit.

”You ever do something like that again, I'll – I'll track down your stupid parka and burn it.”

Somehow, Len doesn't look threatened.

”Len? Is that really you?” It's funny, Sara Lance sounding a bit like a little girl – all hopeful and trying not to believe, and not one bit like Mallus mimicking poor Astra's voice.

”In the flesh.”

”But – you died?”

”You're one to talk. It's not like I'm the first of us to overcome that little issue.”

Amaya still looks skeptical.

”If you're really the same Leonard Snart that blew up the Oculus – the Snart Mick's been telling me about – where have you been? It's been two years. If you managed to survive, how could you make yourself keep away from your friends for so long?”

For the first time, the smirk slips – just a little, but John knows his cold-hearted bastards well enough to tell.

”A lady made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Job took a bit longer than I anticipated, and once it was done, her brother had an offer of his own for me. Like I said, took me a bit longer than I'd intended, but they weren't really the sort you turn down.”

”Family assholes?” Mick rumbles.

”Of a sort. Paid well, though.”

”Well, why didn't you show yourself before?” Ava demands. She's lowered the gun, but she's still bristly as a hedgehog. ”If you could have helped Sara...”

”Wouldn't have worked.” Len lifts the hand still holding the Death Totem, carelessly, as if that tiny bit of evil is nothing to worry about. ”Interfering with a totem bearer while they're bonding with the totem is a bad idea. Sara had to fight her way out herself if she's going to be wielding the Death Totem going forward.”

Entirely predictably Ava's gun goes straight back up.

”Sara is not putting that evil thing back on!”

Len glances down at the mystical artifact in his hand.

”Well, not like this, she ain't,” he agrees, but he still starts strolling towards Sara, utterly ignoring Ava's gun in favour of removing his own necklace. It's a silver ankh and something is niggling in the back of John's mind, something about ankhs.

As he strolls, Len yanks the Death Totem off the choker and holds it up to the ankh, black gem winking through the oval handle at the top of the ankh. Gem and jewelry vanish between his hands.

A ring of metal clatters to the floor.

Three more steps and he's standing in front of Sara, holding out the ankh by the fragile-seeming silver chain. The opening of the handle bit has been filled by something utterly black – the Death Totem, impossible as it seems for the previously perfectly round gem to fit in that oval opening.

”She asked me to give you a message. Well, two messages.”

”She?” Ava demands, but both her girlfriend and the man she's trying to threaten on her behalf are ignoring her now. John suspects that Sara will need to grovel long and hard later.

”First message: next time you see Mallus, she asks that you give him a message from her: that while imitation _is_ the sincerest form of flattery, he's sinply not her type.”

”Okay. I can do that,” Sara's nodding, starting to reach for the re-made Death Totem. ”And the second message?”

”She says thanks for the kiss,” and with that, Len lets go of the chain and the magical bit of bling lands neatly in Sara's outstretched hand.

That's when John remembers exactly what – or rather who – the ankh is supposedly a symbol of.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born out of me being annoyed - DC's Death is a friendly, perky goth, not an escapee from iZombie.


End file.
